


Delivery of the Antichrist

by Patolozka



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is dear, Crowley: I should know I delivered the baby Well not "delivered" delivered you know, Fun, Gen, Humor, Me: Really?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 13:28:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19974829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patolozka/pseuds/Patolozka
Summary: Early in the show Crowley said: “I should know. I delivered the baby. Well, not "delivered" delivered, you know?” And I said: “Really?” And it’s the complete story.





	Delivery of the Antichrist

**Author's Note:**

> Beta-read by Adelay_from_Rivendell, thank you;)

_ Once upon a time, there was a phone call: _

“Aziraphale, we.... oh… we need to talk!”

“Crowley, is that you? You sound agitated.”

“Yes, yes, an-gel, you’re quite right.”

“...So I presume, this is all about... “

“Armageddon-aaah… yeah!”

“Crowley, my dear, what…”

“Just get in here, angel!”

“Well, yes, of course. The usual place?”

“No, my place!”

And then he was gone...

_ Well, that was strange _ , the angel thought but he went to Mayfair anyway.

_ To know the beginning of this little story we need to be present at one moment at the graveyard on the regular infernal meeting a week earlier. _

“You will deliver the baby, Crowley.”

“Me? But this isn’t, you know… my scene.”

“Your scene. Your starring role. Take it," Hastur said with satisfaction and Ligur laughed maniacally.

“But… why me? I’m sure, there are plenty of suitable…” Crowley tried.

“Like you said… they love you Down There, Crowley. Now do it!” Hastur commended and in his eyes was just enough of darkness and thread, that Crowley felt the need to swallow down his next intended words.

And this is how Crowley ended up in his own flat a week later, sweating and panting for air with a big swollen belly that was in every few moments convulsing and bringing him quite a lot of pain.

That of course didn’t keep him from cursing internally (as cursing loudly would bring him even more pain, he was sure of it). He was cursing his Lord for doing this to him. Cursing Hell and all its damn bureaucracy that couldn’t skip him for once. Cursing Hastur for the infernal pill he made him swallow. Cursing Ligur for being there, looking stupid and laughing all over his face. Cursing himself for being cursed for the first time. Cursing Earth for being here. Cursing humans for being weak and cursing God for creating their suffering. He was even cursing Aziraphale for being late…

In summary there were a lot of things he could be cursing. And before the end of this interlude there will be even more.

It was not that Aziraphale was late. He was even early as it took him only eight minutes instead of his usual fifteen to transport from his bookshop to Crowley’s flat. So he was early but for this occasion it was the same as being late.

“Crowley, my dear boy?” he exclaimed from the opened front door as inviting himself into foreign flat didn't seem polite at all (it doesn’t matter that Crowley was doing this to him all the time.).

“In-urgh aaah-HERE!” echoed somewhere from the inside of the flat.

“Crowley,” he carefully stepped inside and closed the door after himself, “what is going…”

Aziraphale stopped on the spot as he caught sight of him. “My dear, what have they done to you?”

“As you can see,” the demon who was heavily leaning on his modern couch breathed, “they have done THIS to me, ahhh.”

He bit into his own hand and tried to breathe through the constricting pain not bothering to look at the greatly shaken angel.

And Aziraphale really was greatly shaken, down to his angelic core. Not by the sight of him (as he was used to Crowley’s different forms) and not even by all the obvious baby delivery in progress but by what it all meant for him, for them and for the world.

And you can follow the chaotic road of his thoughts with me now of you like..

_ The Antichrist, Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness was meant to bring the destruction to the known world. _

_ And Crowley was a vessel for Antichrist. _

_ And Crowley was delivering the Antichrist himself. _

_ And Crowley was… Crowley was in grave pain. Fuck it all! _

Well, that was quick, don’t you think? Even for our angel.

“Um, angel, are you going to stare at me all day or are you going to lend me a hand here!”

“Uh, yes, yes, I’m coming, my dear, of course!”

And that was it, really, not much fuss about it. Just the two supernatural beings trying to give birth to the third supernatural being that could by coincidence destroy the world.

When is was all over and the baby was peacefully sleeping in the basket (of course in the basket, where were you thinking), Crowley was leaning carefully on the couch and just staring at the ceiling (there was something interesting on it - something like two microscopic spots or something).

Aziraphale sat beside him and sighed silently. 

“What are we going to do now?”

“Dunno, angel. Any ideas?”

“Well,” the angel licked his lips, “I could of course thwart the diabolical plans as usual.”

“Which are?”

“Which are giving the baby to the American cultural attaché and so on as you said.”

“And how are you going to thwart them?”

“Well… I think something simple would do it.”

“Like?”

“Like… a trifle. Ordinary human mistake.”

The demon smiled a little demonically. “I think you are right, angel. That could do it nicely.”

And he rested his head on angel’s shoulder.

Well… and that was it, the delivery of the famous baby. Now they just needed to deliver him. Properly. And save the world of course...


End file.
